


A Moss Coloured Cloak

by wecouldbeenough



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Implied Bagginshield, M/M, dadlin, guys...... i just reallly love dwalin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 11:42:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16831924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wecouldbeenough/pseuds/wecouldbeenough
Summary: Five times Dwalin takes care of Bilbo.~aka oh my god i love dwalin~





	A Moss Coloured Cloak

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i wrote this fic because i went through a phase about a month ago where i really thought the worst tragedy of my life was that dwalin wasnt my biological father so anyway heres a dadlin fic lol

Bilbo sneezed for what felt like the umpteenth time in the past ten minutes, his curls plastered to his head with the rain. The motion of the pony underneath him made his muscles ache with every jolt and he could feel a headache starting to build. The rest of the company was only marginally better off, and there were far too many foul tempered dwarves surrounding him for Bilbo's liking.

Not for the first time, Bilbo questioned his sanity for leaving Bag End just over a week ago. The thought of sitting in his armchair by a warm fire seemed like a distant memory. Although (most of) the dwarves weren't rude to him, there was no doubt that Bilbo was an outsider in the company. Thorin was cold to him at best, and the rest of the company seemed reluctant to go against their leader's example. It was a stark contrast to his home in the Shire, where Bilbo was used to friendly company and cheer. Hobbits weren't built to be solitary creatures, and this loneliness didn't suit him one bit.

Bilbo felt tears stinging at his eyes and he wiped at them angrily, hoping that they would be indistinguishable from the rain. Not that any of the company would be checking on him.

“I've had quite enough of this downpour!” he muttered under his breath, wishing he had brought proper clothing for this journey. His fine coat, which he had been so proud of, was completely waterlogged and clung to his skin. He sneezed again and shivered.

“Halfling,” a gruff voice called out from behind Bilbo, making him jump slightly. He turned his head tentatively and saw Dwalin approaching on his shaggy pony. Bilbo winced, sure that he was about to be given out to for something.

“Master Dwalin. What can I do for you?”

Dwalin snorted. “Enough of that formality, not while you're looking like a drowned rat.”

Bilbo bristled. A drowned rat! If he was more certain of his place in the company, he would have given the older dwarf a piece of his mind. Dwalin saw the change in his expression and chuckled again.

“Peace, peace. I meant nothing by it.”

Bilbo relaxed only slightly. Dwalin started rummaging through his saddlebags and after a few moments pulled out a huge looking, moss coloured rain cloak.

“I've a spare cloak, if you want it. No doubt you'll be swimming in it, but it's better than being soaked.”

Bilbo's eyes widened, shocked by the kind gesture of such a seemingly aloof dwarf.

“...Thank you, Master Dwalin. It's much appreciated.”

Bilbo reached out and took the cloak from him, and the warmth he felt when he shrugged into it was glorious. It was definitely far too big for him, and slightly worn, but it was cozy and dry and had a comforting smell.

Bilbo glanced up at Dwalin again and gave him a shy smile. The dwarf grunted in reply and urged his pony forward, ahead of Bilbo. Bilbo settled back into his saddle with renewed hope.

And if for the rest of their ride that day he noticed Dwalin glancing back at him periodically, he would just hide his grin in his cloak and not say a word.

**

The crackling of the campfire filtered through the small clearing they had set up camp in for the night, warming Bilbo as he reclined against a log. His belly was full and he was more comfortable than he had been in days. They'd had a long day and Bilbo was glad for a bit of peace and quiet. He let his eyelids flutter shut.

“Mister Boggins!”

Bilbo's eyes shot open and he grimaced. Before him stood Fili and Kili, with mischievous smirks on their faces. _So much for peace and quiet._

“Yes, boys?” he asked tentatively. He'd gotten to know all the dwarves well over the past weeks and he knew that nothing good could come from that expression, from those two in particular.

“We were wondering...” Kili began, looking downwards rather than at Bilbo's face.

“What's the story with your feet?” Fili said, following his brother's gaze.

Bilbo frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, they're so big compared to the rest of you! And hairy!”

“And you never wear boots either!”

Bilbo wrinkled his nose. “Boots are nasty things. And my feet are a perfectly respectable size for a hobbit, thank you very much!”

“So all hobbits have feet like that then?” Kili asked.

“Um... yes?” Bilbo was starting to get uncomfortable with their questioning, and wondered where this conversation was going. The two boys looked at each other, and nodded.

“Can we touch them?” they asked in unison. Bilbo flushed beet red.

“No! Absolutely not!” he exclaimed, standing up quickly and brushing off his trousers.

“Oh, come on, please! Just once!” Fili stepped closer to Bilbo and Kili followed his lead, effectively trapping him against the log. Bilbo started to panic.

“No, now leave me alone, you two!” he said desperately, looking around wildly to see if there was anyone likely to help him. The two boys continued to advance closer, looking smugly victorious.

“Alright lads, that's enough. Leave the poor burglar alone.” Bilbo looked up and he sighed with relief when he saw an imposing figure standing with his arms crossed, looking very stern. The boys pouted.

“Aw, but Mister Dwalin! We were only having a bit of fun,” Kili whined.

“Aye, aye, but it doesn't seem like the halfling is enjoying himself much,” Dwalin said. “Leave him be.”

The boys slunk away to the other side of the campfire with their tails between their legs, shooting wounded looks at Dwalin and Bilbo. Bilbo looked at Dwalin again and shot him a grateful smile.

“Thank you for that, Master Dwalin. Feet are a bit of a... sensitive subject for hobbits, you understand.”

Dwalin looked at him wryly. “Of course.” He paused for a moment. “Halfling... just know that they're good lads, alright? They mean no harm, but they can get a bit overexcited sometimes.”

  
Bilbo blinked. “Of course! I know I haven't been with the company for long, but I've been here long enough to get to know a person, and I can tell they have good hearts. All of you do.”

Dwalin stared at him for a moment, causing Bilbo to shift nervously, but then he smiled warmly.

“Aye, that they do.” He turned to go back to his spot by the campfire with Thorin, who had been watching the whole exchange curiously, but stopped, and faced Bilbo again. “By the way, enough of that 'Master' rubbish. Just call me Dwalin.”

Bilbo watched as he returned to his seat, a smile growing on his face.

“Dwalin,” he whispered.

**

“Run!” Thorin roared.

Bilbo's heart was pounding in his chest and he felt adrenaline coursing through his body. His body felt as if it was on autopilot and he had never been so terrified in his life. Not when the trolls had threatened to rip him apart, not when he saw his friends on a spit above a fire.

He heard a roar and an orc trumpet echoing in the distance and it spurred him on even faster. Gandalf's friend Radagast was attempting to draw the warg pack away from the company, but it was of little comfort when it felt to him as if there was a warg breathing down his neck.

They were horribly exposed, in the middle of a large plain with only a few rocks to try and take cover. Bilbo stumbled as Gandalf took a sharp turn to duck behind a large rock formation, gesturing for the company to follow. They all crowded close together, hardly daring to breathe.

To Bilbo's horror, he heard the heavy footsteps of a warg on the ledge above them. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Thorin nod to Kili, and Bilbo's heart stopped as the young dwarf darted out to fire a shot at the beast.

The warg and its rider fell to the ground with a heavy thud and deafening roars. A few of dwarves leaped into action to finish the pair off, but it was too late. There was a cacaphony of trumpets, and then a thundering of footsteps rushing towards them.

“Draw your weapons!” Thorin yelled. Bilbo pulled out the small sword Gandalf had given him and gripped the hilt uncertainly. He looked around at each member of the company, and noticed that someone was missing.

“Where's Gandalf?” he said. The dwarves paled.

“He's abandoned us no doubt, he only wants to save his own hide!” someone said. Bilbo didn't care who. Without Gandalf they were doomed. He and his friends were going to die.

“Halfling! Get behind me!” There was a rough hand on his shoulder and he was pushed back. Dwalin had a fierce, wild look on his face and the sight of him adopting a fighting stance and brandishing a massive axe eased the roiling in Bilbo's stomach a bit. He almost laughed.

_At least we'll all go together._

He looked at each of the dwarves around him, and felt an acute sense of loss. Over the past months, they had laughed together, cried together, and Bilbo felt his heart ache. He was about to lose his dearest friends and there was nothing he could do about it.

He readjusted his grip on his sword and faced the enemy head on. It was time to be brave one last time.

“ _This way, you fools!”_

Gandalf's shout rang across the plain and shocked the company into action. The next few minutes passed by in a blur, and Bilbo found himself crumpled at the bottom of a stone shaft in a daze.

They'd done it. They had _survived_.

A hysterical giggle escaped from Bilbo's lips and he couldn't tear his gaze away from the uneven floor beneath him until a pair of boots came into his vision.

“Halfling. Are you alright?”

Bilbo slowly lifted his head to find Dwalin looking down at him, a look of concern on his face.

“Am... am I alright?” Bilbo gathered himself. “Yes, yes I'm fine. A few bumps and bruises but nothing serious.”

Dwalin didn't look convinced, but held out his hand to help Bilbo up.

“Thank you,” Bilbo murmured. “And... thank you for earlier. For protecting me.”

“Don't mention it.” Dwalin clapped Bilbo on the shoulder and went to catch up with his brother.

Bilbo followed.

**

`Bilbo couldn't stop looking over his shoulder at Thorin. Couldn't stop making sure that he was real, that he was _alive_.

After all, he'd come perilously close to leaving them.

His body was bruised and bleeding, and he had to have been in a tremendous amount of pain, but the first thing he had done upon waking after the encounter with the orcs was ask for Bilbo. His joy upon seeing Thorin awake was quickly dashed as the dwarf's words pierced his chest like a blade, words that had been haunting Bilbo's mind since the mountain pass.

_Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you had no place among us?_

The venom in his voice made Bilbo flinch, and although he saw the disbelieving faces of his dwarves in his peripheral vision, he was too numb to register anything but the battered, beautiful figure in front of him.

“I have never been so wrong in all my life.”

Strong arms wrapped around him, and Bilbo gripped dazedly at Thorin's coat.

_He's alive. He's alive._

_\--_

Dwalin nudged his shoulder, bringing him out of his reverie.

“You're staring, lad.”

Bilbo blushed furiously and looked down at his hands. Thorin had looked up at Dwalin's voice and was staring at the pair bemusedly. Dwalin waved his hand at him dismissively and after a moment of his gaze lingering on Bilbo, Thorin went back to trying to mend his ragged clothing.

“Yes, yes, thank you very much Dwalin, now was there something you wanted?” Bilbo asked crossly, embarrassed at having been caught.

Dwalin grinned toothily and held out a stick with rabbit on it. The eagles had kindly hunted for them and the Company was cooking the strips of meat over the small campfire. Bilbo frowned.

“Dwalin, I've already had my share. That's yours.”

Dwalin sombered and looked at Bilbo seriously from under bushy brows.

“Halfling... it was a brave thing you did today. You saved my king, my friend, the one I've sworn to protect, while I could only stand by and watch. You threw yourself headfirst into danger, and it was reckless, aye, but Thorin is alive because of you.”

Bilbo tried to interrupt, to protest, but Dwalin silenced him with a look.

“I... Travelling with you over the past few months, halfling, you've surprised me in a lot. When I first came to your home, I could never have pictured such a fussy little gentlehobbit-” here, he broke off to snort softly, but returned to his previous composure, “-such a little hobbbit, being such a loyal companion. You've proved yourself a worthy member of the company, and this tops it all.”

Bilbo stared at him wordlessly, feeling tears beginning to build in his eyes. Dwalin gazed at the fire for a few moments, then back at Bilbo.

“No matter what paths we take in this life, burglar, you'll always have my friendship.”

Then he shoved the food into Bilbo's hand.

“Now eat.”

**

The weight of this cursed forest was bearing down on all them. The dwarves felt trapped, restless, wary, and even Bilbo who had a love of all things growing was constantly on edge. This forest was sick, and there was no life. At least no benevolent life.

They could no longer tell night from day in the gloom, so instead they set up camp whenever they were too exhausted to keep going. Bilbo prayed that they'd make it through to the other side soon. He wasn't sure how much more of this they could take.

“Dwalin, you take first watch,” Thorin called out at last, prompting an audible sigh of relief from the Company. Dwalin grunted an affirmation and set down his pack, which grew worryingly lighter each day.

After an unsatisfying meal, the dwarves huddled together for warmth in their sleeping bags. They couldn't light a fire these days, not here. Bilbo stared at Bofur's back, unblinking. He was completely exhausted, more than just physically, but every time his eyes began to drift shut he had a vision of some fierce creature with glowing eyes leaping out of the darkness, causing him to jolt back to consciousness.

Sleep continued to elude Bilbo until, with a sigh, he forced himself into a sitting position and rubbed his eyes. His eyes had grown accustomed to the dark, and through it he could see the outline of Dwalin staring distantly into the undergrowth. Wordlessly, he stood up and made his way over to the warrior to sit next to him.

“Can't sleep, lad?” Dwalin asked, without looking up, but Bilbo noticed him shifting slightly to make room for him on the log he was sitting on.

“Not for lack of trying.” Bilbo laughed thinly, but Dwalin noticed the strain in his voice and looked the hobbit up and down.

“Did I ever tell you,” he began slowly, with a conspiratorial smile forming on his face, “about the time Thorin nearly chopped off his own arm, as well as almost maiming Lady Dís, while still in weapons training?”

This sparked curiosity in Bilbo, and he made himself more comfortable on the log. He was aware of what Dwalin was doing, and he was grateful for it.

“No, I don't believe you have.”

And so Dwalin launched into a comedic, if slightly exaggerated, tale of a much younger Thorin, a Thorin without the fate of his people resting upon his shoulders. Bilbo lapped it up, the story a glimmer of light that chased away the shadows that had haunted the corners of his mind since entering Mirkwood. And when that was finished, he told another one, and then another.

Bilbo's face kept a weary smile, even as he felt himself getting drowsy. The dwarf didn't pause with his blunt storytelling when Bilbo found himself leaning heavily against his shoulder. The deep, rumbling voice was soothing like a lullaby and oddly enough, Bilbo was more comfortable on this log than he had been in his sleeping bag.

Bilbo let his eyes flutter shut, and after a moment he felt an arm rest around his shoulders. Just before he succumbed to sleep, he heard a gruff, fond voice speak.

“Sleep, Bilbo. I'm here.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm like......... praying that the foot thing didn't come off as fetishy afdjslkal i just think it's a cool cultural difference anyway thanks for reading hmu on tumblr @wlwthorin uwu


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